days of wander

thumb in the wind

hitching 200 miles

go see if the ‘rents were in

could handle my face

hard rides of wandering hands

offers to suck my cock

pay to see it please

occasionally women

wanting to feed

take me home mother me

endless moments of

here will be fine drop offs

middle of nowhere

where even the horses stare

walking walking

in the rain the snow

sunshine days not caring

stopping to write thoughts ideas

slip slide the mask of bum

be the writer poet troubadour

until the world turned again

finding them not home

or no welcome today

walk out of there

begin the return journey

no shelter no love no feed

no recognition of journeys made

wishes hopes dreams left there

my only salvation the road

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s